


Lord of Nightmares

by AnnaDruvez



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Nightmare on Elm Street (1984)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-29
Updated: 2012-09-29
Packaged: 2017-11-15 06:48:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/524354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnaDruvez/pseuds/AnnaDruvez
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry Potter meets a certain Dream Lord and gains a new weapon for his arsenal of tricks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Snap! Goes the Psyche....

# Lord Of Nightmares

### Snap! Goes the Psyche!

Harry James Potter had had enough. Umbridge was trying to cut his hand off via her literally bloody quill. Add in the various stares of people who thought he was a lying bastard and the relative lack of support from everyone else... It was surprising that he hadn't turned Dark already.

As it was, he held out till just after the winter holidays on pure willpower.

By that point, he'd been hurt too many times. Add in the number of first years that he'd seen crying and holding their hands, and he was downright furious. The final straw was so small that it was damn near ridiculous. Snape's blasted attempt at teaching him Occlumency was painful, humiliating and just plain vindictive.

That night, he ignored his headache – really, after Voldemort's Cruciatus curse it was really rather mild – and visited the Restricted Section. It took him all of twenty minutes to find a book with the basics written out. Fifteen minutes into reading it, he was unsurprised to realize that Snape was hurting more than helping. He quickly devoured the book and started his new exercises before bed.

By the time his next Occlumency lesson was scheduled, Harry was able to eject the greasy git from his mind. Snape was not pleased, and spent all night battering at his shields. Once again, Harry spent the night in the Restricted section. This time, he had more than defense on his mind. This time, he wanted a way to make sure that no one could hurt him ever again.

Unfortunately, the Restricted books didn't have anything nearly useful.

He was heading back towards the tower, and bed, when the idea struck. The Room of Requirement could provide anything, right? Supposedly, at least. You just had to know what you wanted.

He quickly made his way to the seventh floor and composed his thoughts. I want no one to ever be able to hurt me again. I want to be able to stop the ones who hurt innocent children. I want to be able to stop Voldemort.

He completed the required pacing quickly, and found himself in a room with a single book and two chairs. One chair was unoccupied. The other contained a man. Harry cautiously approached, taking in the man's appearance.

He was burnt, badly. On one hand he had a clawed glove. His sweater was green and red, and a bit singed in places. His trousers and shoes were fairly normal, but Harry had to ponder the reasoning behind wearing a fedora without a jacket – and while indoors. The man's ancient-seeming blue eyes watched him patiently.

Harry carefully sat in the chair. "Who are you?"

The man gave a predatory smile. "Frederick Krueger. You can call me Freddy."

Harry blinked at him. "Weren't you in a muggle movie...?"

Freddy nodded. "Yep. And they did a decent job, though they got a lot of it wrong."

Harry leaned back in his chair. Well, the madman wasn't attacking him for a change, so he supposed he could be a bit civil until he discerned his intentions. "Um... I'm Harry Potter. Harry, if you like."

Freddy nodded. "Nice to meet'ya, Harry."

He swallowed a bit nervously. "So, you said they got some of it wrong?"

The man nodded. "Especially in the later movies. I never played with the kids the way they said when I was alive. I just killed'em. Still not the best by your moral code, I suppose, but better than they said. Their deaths were usually pretty quick. Their parents did burn me alive, though. And I did keep killing their kids afterwards."

Harry nodded. "I suppose... I can respect that." Oddly, he realized that this was still a bit better than old Voldie's behavior. And, if the parents and the kids he knew were anything to go by, their deaths might have even been justifiable. "So, what do you want with me?"

Freddy snorted. "Do you know what they don't tell you when they offer you the deal to guard the dream gate? They don't tell you that it feels like forever. Every day. Every single fucking day is the beginning of time to the end of time."

Harry frowned. "That sounds... tedious. But, why is it like that?"

Freddy nodded. "It is tedious, as you put it. I call it fucking boring. As for why?..." He shifted position a bit and took a pull out of a bottle of beer that had just appeared on the table. "Did you know that dreams last just minutes in real time? For every minute in the real world, fucking days can pass in dreams. I live in the dream realm, so I'm always moving at that speed. At least, that's my theory of the why."

Harry nodded, then eyed Freddy's beer and sent a mental plea to the room. He was rather happy to see a bottle of Coke appear on the table. Who knew that the room could do that? He started to take a sip, but Freddy shook his head. "I wouldn't do that."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Why not?"

"Stuff disappears when you walk out of here. What do you think will happen to you when that Coke vanishes after your body starts processing it?" Freddy nodded when he put the soda back down. "As I said, I wouldn't do that."

Harry sighed. "So, what about you?"

The Nightmare shrugged. "I'm already dead. Won't do shit to me."

"Oh. Why are you here?"

Freddy smirked. "As I said, my 'afterlife' as it were is getting kinda boring. And you need some help. I specialize in killing kids, but you don't want my prey. You want to kill the adults."

Harry crossed his legs, one ankle resting on the opposite knee, mimicking Freddy's positioning. "I'm not really sure that I want to help you."

He waved his clawed hand. "Eh. Not asking you to kill kids. Just thought you'd like to specialize in knocking off the living adults that hurt them. We wouldn't be able to really hurt each other, so no stopping me for you, or you for me. Still, you'd be able to rip a sizable hole into any so-called 'grown-up' you want."

Harry was really tempted. The chance to do damage to Voldie or Umbridge – without repercussions – was enticing. "What about that whole fear thing?"

Freddy snorted. "More Hollywood claptrap. I can go anywhere and kill any kid I really want. I tend to stick to the ones that deserve it though, unlike what they insist. Sure, I killed the kids of the people who hurt me. After that, though, I decided to stalk the ones who earned it."

Harry raised one eyebrow. "Oh?"

Krueger laughed. "Well, they think they successfully banned me from Elm Street. Truth is, kid, that every town has an Elm Street. In the US of fucking-A and parts of Britain, that is. And I was never really confined to it, anyway."

The burned man leaned closer, as if confiding a secret. "As for earning it, do you have any idea how sick and twisted some kids are? There are thirteen year old brats that get away with rape and murder. And I'm not just talking about bum-fuck nowhere kid. It happens in America, Russia, just about anywhere you can name. I don't need to kill Miss Innocent. I can go out and steal Mr. Too-Fucking-Young-For-An-Adult-Trial's own ideas to use against him."

Harry grinned. Images of Malfoy getting his just punishment dancing through his head. "I don't suppose you want a list of suggestions for people to take a closer look at?"

Freddy laughed. "Now you're gettin' the idea. So, what'dya say? Wanna join the Dream Demon crowd? Keep me company during the days so that we can wreak havoc at night?"

Harry found himself echoing Freddy's laughter. "I don't have to die to do it, do I?"

He shook his head. "Nah, makes it easier, but it's not a requirement. Just read the book. It'll teach ya what you need to know to summon them and make your deal. Remember, though, to keep a close eye on the fine print. And, if you have any kids you wanna get back at... Well, I'll be happy to let ya play alongside me for them. Kay?"

Harry nodded, then frowned. "I have to get to bed..."

Freddy's smile widened back into a grin. "That book didn't come from the room, kid. I brought it here out of Dreams myself after you opened the door. It won't vanish."

Harry smiled, feeling his anger uncoil and move into a waiting position. It was almost like a snake preparing to strike. "Freddy, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship."

Freddy laughed. "Gotta love the classics..." The man stood and stretched. "I need to get back to work. Make sure you word the contract so that they pull out and destroy that soul fragment in your scar. You don't want to be an eternal tether for the fucker that killed your parents. Ask the room for books on the word 'Horcrux' and you'll find out what I mean."

As Krueger faded, Harry did ask the room for the information. He could have sworn that he heard a distant laugh and a comment about 'whores knowing better than to fuck with soul magic,' but he had more important things to worry about. The single new book that appeared had him shaking with fury by the time he finished reading it. The methods of disposal for a Horcrux brought him to some painful realizations about his apparently deliberate lack of training and life expectancy.

By the time dawn lit the sky, Harry was absolutely certain that he'd be making a bargain soon.


	2. Chapter 2

###  Croak! 

Dumbledore frowned as he stared out the window of his office. The settings sun cast gorgeous splashes of color all across the grounds and forest, but he was too lost in thought to appreciate it. He couldn't quite decide where things went wrong. And there were a lot of things that had gone wrong.

Harry had stopped responding to Severus' taunts. This was disturbing, as he'd used the severity of the responses to gauge the boy's emotional state. He'd also depended on Severus' actions to keep the boy humble. Much like he'd depended on the Dursleys.

The boy had also completely broken with the Weasleys. He wouldn't have cared about the Granger girl, but he'd depended on the family to keep him firmly leashed. It wasn't a good idea to let the boy make too many powerful connections. If he did so, there was a chance that he would learn things he shouldn't... like being able to compel a trial for Black in front of the Wizengamot.

Hell, he might even find out that he had a title and seat!

Instead, Harry was cultivating a relationship with the Longbottom, Lovegood, and Bones children. The Longbottom boy was heir to his own title, and might let slip things that should be kept quiet. The Lovegood girl came from a long line of part Fae Seers. Who knew what she'd relate to him?

The Bone girl had ties to the DMLE. If she found out about half the things he'd maneuvered Harry into, he'd have so much Veritaserum poured down his throat that he'd be able to float in it. This wouldn't advance his plans, but would hinder them – perhaps even stop them completely. The Department of Magical Law Enforcement was remarkably short sighted when it came to the Greater Good.

They had the uncomfortable tendency to ask things like, "Whose Greater Good?"

Then, there were the strange incidents last night and this morning. Both the Malfoy boy and that interfering bitch, Umbridge, had woken up in the early morning with severe injuries. Poppy had been frantic. She'd spent hours meticulously healing every injury as none of the more broad-spectrum spells had been effective. Then, she'd had to deal with neither patient wanting to return to sleep.

She hadn't been able to do anything about the Defense Professor. Draco Malfoy had actually insisted that his father come to the school before he would allow her to give him anything. Lucius had shown up and spent a half hour closeted with his son. The end result was that the boy drank his Dreamless Sleep and Lucius demanded to know why his "son was babbling about burnt-faced, muggle freaks and the Potter boy."

Harry had several very solid witnesses (including the Fat Lady) that cleared him of anything to do with the mess. The portrait stated that she hadn't been opened since early that evening – at all. And all of Gryffindor saw the boy in the tower that night. Then, the child stood in front of both himself and Lucius and took a magical oath that he'd been asleep in the tower at the time of the attack. Afterward, he'd been almost cheeky about tossing a patronus out of his wand to gambol about the room.

The elder Malfoy was furious. Whether it was the person who injured his son that raised his ire... That was anyone's guess. He could have been angry that Harry was proven innocent. Possibly both.

Umbridge had returned to her quarters, only for a frantic House-elf to report that she was dead when morning came. It had been... particularly gruesome. He honestly hadn't realized that there was that much blood in the human body. It had even been sprayed across the ceiling.

The two Aurors that had come to investigate her death – the most junior a five year veteran of the force – had both stepped out of the room to vomit on seeing the strips of skin that were woven into a blanket and artfully draped across her corpse.

He moved to his desk and started working on his paperwork. He had much to do. He was expecting a call from an irate Fudge – and probably the Board. Hopefully he could get a positive response from his chosen Defense teacher before the Minister realized that: 1) he was still the headmaster, and 2) the post was empty.

* * *

Freddy looked at the boy sitting in a squishy armchair in his boiler room. The steam wasn't even raising the slightest sweat. He actually appeared quite comfortable as he sipped a frosty glass of lemonade. It was amazing the amount of control he'd picked up in a week. "Isn't it a bit early for you to be here, brat?"

Harry grinned up at him. "Eh, taking a nap. They did wake me up last night with all that nonsense." He shook his head in mock sadness. "You know, in polite society we wait until after breakfast to interrogate potential murderers."

Freddy snorted. "Riiiight. Nice job with the quilt, by the way."

Harry's eyes lit up. "Oh, did you like it? I made sure to weave a kitten face into the pattern. I know how much she loved them."

The Nightmare snorted again and leaned against the metal railing. How had the people in that school missed the vicious streak? "Fuck, I probably would have just fed her to a bunch of them."

The green-eyed boy shook his head reprovingly. "There's no need for animal cruelty."

Freddy laughed. "So, who's tonight's victim? That fucking Minister?"

Harry pondered for a moment. "Maybe. Or, I could start closer to home. Would it be too obvious to go after Snape next, do you think? Or the Dursleys?"

"Probably."

"Damn. I'll have to think about it then." The boy created a card table and chairs. "Poker?"

* * *

Voldemort rubbed his eyes and sat up. It felt like he'd just laid down to sleep, but there was sunlight shining outside his window. He slowly pulled his aching body out of the bed and stretched, causing a dozen or so small pops in his back, before shambling across the room and into the bath. He blinked at the cracked mirror. The haze left his mind as his body tensed.

He didn't look like himself.

His eyes were no longer red. He had a nose. His hair was mussed, but it actually existed. He wasn't too sure whether to be happy about this or not. On one hand, he could go out and wander around wizarding areas without worrying about someone tossing a finite at his glamour. On the other hand, he'd now have to glamour himself every time he called his followers.

He blinked and his reflection changed. Potter was in his mirror!

He reflexively reached for his wand, only to realize he didn't have it. He didn't remember seeing it on the nightstand either. It didn't even occur to him to use his fist to break the mirror. Instead, he began backing away from it, only to be stopped when he ran into the wall.

The reflection smiled. "Did you know that horcruxes dream, Tom? It's hazy, but it's a dream."

Voldemort blinked. He wasn't sure where this was going. Was one of his own horcruxes trying to talk to him in dreams? Why would it look like Potter? Wait, he was dreaming?

Potter's smile turned into a wicked grin. "Of course, since they don't have real bodies they can't wake up to escape their nightmares..."

He was confused. "What?..."

Harry smiled. "They all died, Tommy. They're all dead. You're going to join them."

The wall behind him became spongy, then liquid as it flowed around him. Tendrils bound him in place as it pulled him inside the strange substance, then poured into his mouth and down inside him. He tried to scream, but that just opened a new avenue of attack. The strangely aware goo flowed down into his lungs and filled them.

Just as suddenly as it started, he was spat out and onto the floor of his now-pristine bathroom. The light had faded and he could hear night birds calling out. Potter's voice floated from nowhere and everywhere. "Did you really think I'd let you die that quickly? I have fifteen years of hell to revisit on you."

Voldemort ran from the room and checked his bedside table. His wand wasn't on top or in the drawer below. It hadn't fallen on the floor that he could tell, and it wasn't under his pillow. He whirled around and frantically checked every surface.

Potter might have kept talking, but Voldemort didn't hear him. He was too busy running from the room and down the stairs. He searched for his minions, but there wasn't even a house elf to be found. He'd forgotten that he might be dreaming.

He headed for the door to the outside and grasped the knob firmly. He didn't have time to react as the metal twisted and writhed underneath his hand, then expanded out in sharp spikes. Thankfully, they retracted, but his wand hand was now useless and dripping blood across the floor. Behind him, Mrs Cole appeared and started haranguing him about the mess.

He turned to face her in shock. He hadn't seen her in years, not since he left the orphanage for the last time. Her sharp features were twisted in hatred, as usual, and she held a mop in one hand. Her dress was stained with what appeared to be dried blood.

She slapped him across the face. "Are you listening to me Riddle? Get a rag and clean this mess up. I will not have it! Parents are coming to look at the normal children tonight!"

Out of long-forgotten habit, he started to stutter an apology. That's when he realized the top of the mop handle didn't look right. Above her grip, it turned into a wicked-looking sword. Blood slowly dripped down towards her hand.

Mrs. Cole's expression changed. Her eyes glimmered killing curse green and her mouth widened into a sinister grin, the gaping hole wider than any human should have. The corners of her mouth almost reached her ears, and the teeth were sharp enough to make the Basilisk's look dull. "Noticed that, did you? It took you forever. You always were worthless, Riddle."

Her head cocked suddenly. "Heh. I guess we'll have to cut this short. Too bad. Still, not sorry to say that it's time to die."

Voldemort screamed as his world turned into an inferno of white-hot pain.

* * *

Harry rubbed his eyes and looked at the pajama-clad Neville Longbottom. "What?"

His round-faced roommate eyed him in worry. "You sounded like you were having a nightmare..."

Neville didn't understand why Harry smiled, nor why it terrified him so.


	3. Chapter 3

### Dreamless

Harry sighed as he lazed by the pool. It was a pretty day. Perfectly calm and quiet, with only a few puffy clouds littering the sky.

He cracked one eye open as a shadow fell over him. "Hey, Freddy."

The burned man looked around. "What are you doing here? And... isn't this a bit cheerful?"

Harry shrugged and gestured to a lounge chair that appeared next to him. The plastic monstrosity creaked a bit as Freddy settled into it. "Eh. Got hurt in a quidditch match this afternoon. Pomfrey pumped me full of dreamless sleep. It doesn't seem to stop me from entering the Dream anymore, but most of my targets are awake. I figured if I had to be bored, I'd catch some rays and relax since I never had a chance to try it."

The Nightmare nodded and rested his clawed hand on his stomach as he reclined. "Well, I suppose that makes sense. So, who's your next target?"

Harry shrugged. "Since I'm in the hospital wing until tomorrow, I figured I'd tear into the supposedly adult Dursleys. The matron can vouch for my whereabouts, after all."

"Makes sense."

Harry shifted onto his stomach, his back showing a ghostly image of belt marks for a few moments. "If I finish with them early enough, I may grab another person. Margarita?"

"Thanks. Want me to get your cousin?"

"I'll think about it. I may want to help."

* * *

The Order of the Phoenix sat about drinking tea in the kitchen, waiting for the rather tardy Headmaster to arrive. The air was tense and wary. Many had died over the last few days. The children of Death Eaters – and many of the Death Eaters themselves – had dropped dead in the oddest places. Remus Lupin watched the various expressions of nervousness and fear as he sat in a seat near the wall.

Minerva McGonagall was even more pinched-faced than normal. Her hat was slightly askew as if she had jammed it hastily on her head and her robes were rumpled. "I'm telling you, Molly, it was horrifying. The entire class saw it, too. He just floated up and gashes started appearing out of nowhere..."

Molly Weasley was sitting next to her, her eyes wide with horror. "Do you think we should pull the children out of school?"

Minerva shook her head. "The Parkinsons tried it. Pansy was in St. Mungo's the next day with burns over most of her body. She died that afternoon. Her parents were dead the next morning." She looked a bit ill. "I understand that her father had been hung using her mother's intestines."

Elphias Doge, at that point, had been about to take a large bite of noodles in tomato sauce. He set his fork down and delicately pushed it away. For once, Mundungus Fletcher didn't even comment. He was a pale shade of green.

Nymphadora Tonks, her hair a mishmash of deep colors, shuddered. "That's not the half of it. Runcorn died this morning at the hearing the Ministry convened to investigate the... incidents. He appeared to be sleeping, but his head literally fell off when Madame Longbottom nudged him to wake him for a vote."

Remus frowned. "I find it interesting that none of the murdered have returned. Surely they must have some unfinished business... If only to find out who their murderers are. Or perhaps accuse them."

Moody glanced over at the werewolf with a frown. "That's the thing. The Department of Mysteries is a hard group to get information out of, but I managed to talk with an Unspeakable this morning. He let slip that it almost resembles a dementor attack in nature. The people apparently lose their souls before they die completely..." He took a sip of his flask. "Well, if an Unspeakable can ever be said to 'let' anything slip. They seem to be as stuck as we are and are probably hoping that we'll figure it out."

* * *

Severus Snape had no idea how he wound up in Potter's house but, when he broke out of the small cupboard, that was exactly where he found himself. The walls were splattered with blood and bits of flesh. The carpet was soaked through and a small sanguine stream proved that the floor was not level as it dribbled from the kitchen.

He looked into the living room first and was glad that he was a Death Eater – otherwise he would have vomited. Vernon Dursley was moaning, or trying to, from his position. He was literally staked to the wall. Spikes were driven through his wrists, elbows, knees and hands. His throat had been carefully excised. Blood flowed out and slowly gurgled on his every breath, but it wasn't a fast flow. No major arteries and veins were even nicked.

He passed by, entering the kitchen. Petunia was broken on the floor, literally. Every bone – with the exception of her skull – had been shattered in multiple places. Some were poking out of her flesh, some were not. A frying pan lay discarded next to her, and there was tape over her mouth.

Her eyes were glassy with the approach of death. He leaned down and pulled the tape away from her lips, only for the smell of bleach to fill the air. Shoved inside was an entire car sponge soaked in the caustic liquid. He pulled it out, examining the damage. "Petunia? Can you understand me?"

The voice behind him was painfully familiar. "Considering that this is only the latest in a long line of tortures, and that she stopped screaming hours ago, I assume she doesn't recognize much of anything anymore."

Snape snarled and turned. "Potter."

Harry quirked one eyebrow at him. "Am I?"

He sneered. "Don't play games with me. Fifteen points from Gryffindor."

The boy laughed. "I don't think that it's me that you want to take those points from. And my father's been dead a long time, _Snivilus."_

Snape reached for his wand, only to realize that he didn't have it. "Let's make that fifty points, Mr. Potter. Would you care to try for a hundred?"

To his ire, the boy's laughter just danced around the room again. "Points? Is that your answer to everything these days? Guess Dumbles is right, you really are a tame Death Eater now."

His hands clenched at his sides. "That will be detention for a month."

Harry snapped his fingers and a spike grew out of the floor directly beneath Petunia's heart and through her body. If he didn't know better, Snape would have said that she made a sigh of relief as she died. The gurgling had also cut off in the living room. "Really, Snape. That's just pathetic. Why don't I show you real punishment?"

Her shot the boy a glare and turned to walk out of the door, only to find that he was now in the dungeons of Hogwarts. The halls were darker than he remembered, and manacles hung from the walls. Harry's voice floated eerily out at him. "It's amazing what they don't tell us about the past, Professor. Perhaps that's why Binns likes to focus on the Goblin Wars. They're less bloody than what we've done to our own... But, these halls remember it well."

A manacle whipped out and grabbed his arm, pulling him to one wall. He reached to pull at it, only to find the opposite wrist seized and yanked back painfully. "They dream of the blood that was spilled here. The souls of the tortured dead who were used to animate the place still cry out their pain and lust for revenge. It seems that the modern purebloods are right. Muggles weren't good for much, unless the Founders needed living sacrifices for now-forbidden rituals. Even Gryffindor considered that an acceptable fate for captured combatants... I wonder if Hermione knows about that? Not that it really matters, of course."

The Potter boy appeared in front of him, this time accompanied by a rail-thin man in a fedora. His grating voice made the hair on Snape's arms stand on end, as the more primitive part of his mind screamed 'predator.' "Heh, so this is the fucker who thought he could rule through fear?"

Harry shook his head. "No, this is that fucker's apprentice and Potion's Master. I already killed Tom."

One claw delicately traced Snape's jaw and he had to resist the urge to swallow. "Pity, I would have liked to watch that..." Hard blue eyes stared into his. "Wha'dya gonna to do to him?"

Harry shook his head. "I have so many ideas. There were so many suggestions he's given me over the years. I could feed him the congealed mess of all of Neville's potions over the years. I could dice him up for potions ingredients... The list is long."

The claw nicked into his sallow skin. "Boiling in oil's been done. A lot."

"Mmmm. Gang raped by dragons?"

"Eww. I dunno if even I could put up with watchin' that."

"True. And the poor dragons."

The burnt man laughed lightly. A rush of fear flooded it's way down Snape's spine, even as a slightly more yellow trickle ran slowly down his leg. "Burning's a horrible way to go. I should know."

Potter shook his head. "No offense, but I don't want to wind up breathing this arse in."

The claw traced further down his neck and chest, the razor sharp metal slicing away his robes and shirt with ease. "None taken. Whipped?"

"Too close to home. I could pull a Vlad the Impaler."

"Do you really want to see him without pants?"

"Point." Harry frowned. "I need to read more torture methodology."

"Mm..." The gentlest scratch of the claw cut nearly into the right side of his rib cage. He barely resisted screaming. "Blood Eagle? Or we could fill his innards with hot coals and sew the incision."

"I've never seen a Blood Eagle. Can you show me?"

"Sure." Snape lost the battle against screaming shortly after the man grinned at him.

* * *

Madam Pomfrey was perplexed. A bottle of Dreamless Sleep should have blocked the Potter boy's dreams for hours. Yet, here he was nestled snugly beneath the covers and smiling. Every now and then, a small chuckle escaped.


	4. Chapter 4

### Death, Devastation, Despair.... A Demon's Work is Never Done 

The problem with being in dreams, Freddy reflected, is that sometimes even a Dream Lord can't tell what's real. So, when he first went looking for Harry he popped into the mind of Hermione Granger. At first, he didn't realize that it wasn't Harry he was talking to. At least, not until the image of Potter started blatantly snogging said girl. That's when he noticed both were ignoring him.

He quickly figured out what was happening. He took a step back inside a wall, melding into the space between dreams, and observed. He couldn't help a little grin. So what if it was voyeurism at its most invasive? It was still amusing to watch dream-Harry start to strip the girl's rather nice body. It was then that he noticed the real Harry was next to him.

"Some reason for checking your friend's dreams, kid?"

He shook his head. "Nah, was just curious to find out what a bookworm dreams about... And why you were watching." He cocked his head to one side. "I never knew she was into bondage. Kinky."

Freddy nodded. "Most librarian types are. It's a fuckin' stereotype for a reason."

"Mm. So it seems." Harry eyed him. "She on your list?"

The Dream Master shrugged. "Not at the moment. Just a bit bored. Got your next victim lined up yet?"

Harry gave a halfhearted shrug back at him. "I was thinking of branching out from the Hogwarts parents. Maybe some of the others with no solid ties to the school. It would distance things a bit from me."

"Makes sense." They both turned when a rather loud moan from the room caught their attention. "Ooh, flexible."

"Isn't she a bit young for you?"

"Yeah, but no law against watching." Freddy grinned. "Well, there is. But not in dreams."

Harry laughed. "True enough." He paused. "Think she'd let me do that in real life?"

"Ya never know, kid. Ya never know... By the way, that Lovegood girl?"

"Yeah?"

"Stay away from her dreams. I spent half an hour trying to get away. She didn't let me out till I showed her something called a snorwak.. snarkbag... eh, whatever. Just avoid."

* * *

Fenrir Greyback moved slowly through the bushes and trees in his wolf form. The twelve point buck in the small clearing hadn't scented him yet. It was still focused on grazing, though every now and then it quivered and lifted its head to sniff the air. It had – at the moment – paused to do so again.

Patiently, he waited for it to return to feeding. Quietly, he crept forward. One moment. Two. The deer blinked and he was on it in a blur of snarling teeth. The kill would be so satisf...

The deer changed. One second it was squealing in pain, the next it was morphing into a horror he'd never encountered before. It was all tentacles, claws, and mouths with sharp teeth. In the time it took his mind to process the change, he had a dozen wounds on his sides and a gash tracing down his foreleg.

He tried to leap away, but the tentacles were stronger than he was. One had wrapped around his left rear leg and another around his waist. The mouth at the tip of it was sliding into his side and chewing on his flesh. A third whip-like appendage had wrapped around his head and expanded at the end so that its maw was wrapped around his snout. It was slicing into his nose and keeping him from biting back.

Worse yet, he could feel himself morphing back into his human form. His blood splattered the grass as parts of his face were left behind in the grasp of the one holding his head. He sucked in a breath, only to release it in a scream of agony as a tendril slid into his chest through one of his wounds and started gnawing on his liver.

He glanced at the monster as he died. It's eyes seemed to devour his very soul in a frozen parody of death. His final fascinated thought was that he couldn't truly see all of it. It was like parts of it existed and parts did not. His mind could not – would not – accept what it was seeing. He had no idea what it was.

Fenrir Greyback had never read any of Lovecraft's works. Harry Potter had.

* * *

Bellatrix Lestrange was having a delightful time. She was gussied up and being all but worshiped by the masses in the grand ballroom at the Ministry. This was, of course, only helped by being the favored dance partner of Lord Voldemort. In and out of the bedroom.

She was dancing with him at this very moment. Their music was the screams and cries of the Mudbloods that were being whipped and flayed on one side of the hall. Glowing sconces about the room sent out a green light from the dark marks that were floating above them. They cast eerie shadows but provided more than enough illumination to maneuver by. The pool of blood slowly inching across the floor only made the evening more pleasurable.

The Prophet reporters were moving through the crowd, taking pictures of their world leaders for the society page. Anything that they did was news, though she thought the article on Pettigrew's morning habits was a bit too much. Her Lord had agreed with her, and Wormtail had been granted the "honor" of joining the Mudbloods for the evening. She'd never been happier.

Her Lord smiled down at her, holding her close in his arms. Her hands were smoothing over his velvet robes as she enjoyed the feel of the cloth over his flesh. "My dearest Bella, I have a special surprise for your tonight."

Delighted glee filled her. "Oh, thank you, My Lord."

His serpentine features pulled into a sinister smile. "You remember the deal I made with the Dementors to gain their allegiance?"

"Yes, My Lord." They had slowed to a stop in the middle of the dance floor. He released her and stepped a few paces back.

"It seems that they are in need of payment. Do you know what this means, Bella?"

"My Lord?" The room was growing colder. She wrapped her arms around herself and rubbed in an attempt to counteract the effect. She suddenly realized that everyone else in the room was clad in strange, ragged cloaks.

"You've been a wonderful toy. However, all things must end." She fell to her knees and reached towards him, begging. "Goodbye, my dear."

* * *

Harry enjoyed a lazy Saturday morning shower and then wandered into his common room. He smiled at his friends. Hermione was seated on a cushy sofa. She glanced up at him and then quickly back at her book. If he hadn't seen her dreams the night before, he would have been completely baffled at the blush that crossed her face. As it was, he wondered whether she'd like to re-enact it.

Ron was sitting at the chess set, thoroughly devastating the meager defense Dean Thomas was attempting to build. Seamus was seated at a table, teaching some Muggleborn first years the joys of exploding snap. The occasional booming sound was punctuated by the children's giggles at each others sooty faces. Ginny was scrawling frantically on a parchment. If he had to guess from the content he could see, it was Potions homework. The new professor was tending to overload the classes with theory, but he supposed it was better than Snape's complete lack thereof.

He crossed the room and settled next to his oldest female friend. She smiled at him, then blushed again and turned back to her book. "Good morning, Harry."

He let a small smirk play across his features. "Good morning, Hermione."

She ignored him for several more minutes as he stared at her. Finally, she put her book aside. "Is something wrong?"

He shook his head. "Nope. I was wondering... Would you like to go out with me this next Hogsmeade weekend?"

"Don't the three of us always go together?"

He rubbed the back of his head. I'm a Dream Lord and a multiple murderer. Yet, I still have trouble asking a girl out. Go figure. "Um... I meant... as a date."

Her chocolatey brown eyes widened and she blushed. "Um... Sure. I think... I think I'd like that."

He smiled at her. Things were finally looking up.


End file.
